fol. 156ra Incipit altercatio inter filomenam et bubonem.

Ich wes in one sumere dale In one swithe dyele hale. Iherde ich holde grete tale An ule and one nyhtegaleline5 That playd wes stif and starc and strong, Sumhwile softe, and lud among, And eyther ayeyn other swal And let that uvele mod ut al, And eyther seyde of othres custeline10 That alre-wrste that hi ywuste, And, hure and hure, of othres songe Hi holde playding swithe stronge.

Nightingale Thenihtegale bigon tho speke In one hurne of one beche,line15 And sat upone vayre bowe That were abute blosme ynowe, In ore vaste, thikke hegge Imeynd myd spire and grene segge. He wes the gladdur vor the ryse,line20 And song a veole cunne wyse: Bet thuhte the drem that he were Of harpe and pipe than he nere; Bet thuhte that heo were ishote Of harpe and pipe than of throte!

Owl Tho stod on old stok thar bysideline26 Thar the ule song hire tyde And wes myd ivi al bigrowe. Hit wes thare ule erdingstowe.

Nightingale Thenihtegale hi iseyh,line30 And hi bihold and overseyh, And thuhte wel ful of thare ule, For me hi halt lodlich and fule.fol. 156rb “Unwyht,” heo seyde, “awey thu fleo! Me is the wurs that ich the iseo.line35 Iwis, for thine wle lete Wel ofte ich my song furlete; Min heorte atflyhth and falt my tunge Hwenne thu art to me ithrunge. Me luste bet speten thane singeline40 Of thine fule howelynge.”

Owl Theosule abod for hit wes eve — Heo ne myhte no leng bileve, Vor hire heorte wes so gret That wel neyh hire fnast atset —line45 And warp a word tharafter longe: “Hw thynk the nu bi mine songe? Wenestu that ich ne kunne singe The ich ne cunne of wrytelinge? Ilome thu dest me gromeline50 And seist me bothe teone and schome. If ich the heolde on myne vote— So hit bitide that ich mote! — And thu were ut of thine ryse, Thu scholdest singe onother wise!”

Nightingale Thenihtegale yaf onsware:line56 “If ich me loki with the bare And me schilde wit the blete, Ne recche ich nouht of thine threte; If ich me holde in myne hegge,line60 Ne recche ich never hwat thu segge. Ich wot that thu art unmilde With heom that ne muwe from the schilde, And thu tukest wrothe and uvele Hwar thu myht over smale vowele.fol. 156va Vorthi thu art loth al fowel-cunne,line66 And alle heo the dryveth heonne, And the biscrycheth and bigredeth, And wel narewe the byledeth. And ek forthe the sulve moseline70 Hire thonkes wolde the totose! Thu art lodlich to biholde, And thu art loth in monye volde: Thi body is scort; thi swere is smal; Gretture is thin heued ne thu al;line75 Thin eyen beoth col-blake and brode Ryht so hi weren ipeynt myd wode — Thu starest so thu wille abyten Al that thu myht myd clyvre smyten! Thi bile is stif and sarp and hokedline80 Riht as on ewel that is croked — Tharmyd thu clechest euer among, And that is on of thine song! Ac thu thretest to myne vleysse — Mid thine clevres woldest me meysse!line85 The were icundere to one frogge, That sit at mulne under cogge; Snayles, mus, and fule wihte Beoth thine cunde and thine rihte. Thu sittest a day and flyhst a niht,line90 Thu cuthest that thu art unwiht. Thu art lodlich and unclene — Bi thine neste ich hit mene And eke bi thine fule brode: Thu vedest ou heom a wel ful vode!line95 Wel wostu that hi doth tharynne — Hi fuleth hit up to the chynne! Heo sytteth thar so hi beo bysne. Hwarbi men seggeth a vorbysne:fol. 156vb ‘Dehaet habbe that ilke bestline100 That fuleth his owe nest.’ That other yer a faukun bredde; His nest nowiht wel he ne bihedde. Tharto thu stele in o day And leydest tharon thi fule ey.line105 Tho hit bycom that he hayhte And of his eyre briddes wrauhte, Heo brouhte his briddes mete, Biheold his nest, iseyh hi ete. He iseyh, bi one halve,line110 His nest ifuled in the ut halve. The faukun wes wroth with his bridde, And lude yal, and sturne chidde: ‘Seggeth me hwo haveth this ido! Eu nas never icunde therto!line115 Hit wes idon eu a lothe custe! Seggeth me if ye hit wiste!’ Tho queth that on, and queth that other: ‘Iwis, hit wes ure owe brother — That yeonde that haveth that grete heued —line120 Way that he nys tharof byreved! Werp hit ut myd the vyrste Thet his nekke him toberste!’ The faukun levede his ibridde And nom that fule brid amydde,line125 And warp hym of than wilde bowe, That pie and crowe hit todrowe. Therby men seggeth a byspel, Theyh hit ne beo fulliche spel: ‘Al so hit is bi than ungodeline130 That is icumen of fule brode And is ymeynd with freomonne. Ever he cuth that he com thenne —fol. 157ra That he com of than adel eye — Theyh he a freo neste leye.line135 Theyh appel trendli from the treo Thar he and other myde grewe, Theyh he beo tharfrom bicume, He cuth hwenene he is icume.’”

Theos word ayaf the nihtegale,line140 And after thare longe tale Heo song so lude and so scharpe Ryht so me grulde schille harpe.Owl Theos ule luste thiderward, And heold hire eyen netherward,line145 And sat toswolle, and tobolewe, So heo hedde one frogge iswolwe, For heo wel wiste and was iwar Thar heo song hire a bysemar. And natheles heo yaf ondsware:line150 “Hwy neltu fleon into bare, And schewi hwether unker beo Of brihtur hewe, of fayrur bleo?”Nightingale “No! Thu havest scharpe clawe! Ne kepe ich noht that thu me clawe!line155 Thu havest clyvres swithe stronge; Thu twengest tharmid so doth a tonge. Thu thoutest — so doth thine ilyche — Mid fayre worde me biswike. Ich nolde don that thu me raddest;line160 Ich wiste wel that thu me misraddest. Schomye the vor thine unrede! Unwryen is thi swikehede! Schild thi swikedom from the lyhte, And hud that wowe among the ryhte.line165 Hwanne thu wilt thu unriht spene, Loke that hit ne beo isene,fol. 157rb Vor swikedom haveth schome and het If hit is ope and underyete. Ne spedestu nouht mid thin unwrenche,line170 For ich am war and can blenche. Ne helpeth noht that thu bo to thriste: Ich wolde vyhte bet myd liste Than thu mid al thine strengthe. Ich habbe, on brede and ek on lengthe,line175 Castel god on myne ryse. ‘Wel fyht that wel flyhth,’ seyth the wise, Ac lete we awey theos cheste, For suche wordes beoth unwreste, And fo we on myd rihte dome,line180 Mid fayre worde and myd some. Theyh we ne beon at on acorde, We mawe bet myd fayre worde, Withute cheste and bute vyhte, Playde mid sothe and mid ryhte,line185 And may ur eyther hwat he wile Mid rihte segge and myd skile.”

Owl Tho quath the ule, “Hwo schal us seme? That cunne and wille riht us deme?”Nightingale “Ich wot wel,” quath the nyhtegale,line190 “Ne tharf therof beo no tale: Mayster Nichol of Guldevorde. He is wis and war of worde; He is of worde swythe gleu. And him is loth evrich untheu.line195 He wot insyht in euche songe — Hwo singeth wel, hwo singeth wronge — And he con schede from the rihte That wowe, that thuster from the lyhte.”

Owl Theule one hwile hi bihouhte,line200 And after than this word upbrouhte:fol. 157va “Ich graunti wel that he us deme, For theyh he were hwile breme, And leof hym wre nihtingale And other wyhte gent and smale,line205 Ich wot he is nuthe acoled. Nis he vor the nouht afoled That he, vor thine olde luve, Me adun legge and the abuve. Ne schaltu never so him quemeline210 That he vor the fals dom deme. He is nu ripe and fast-rede; Ne luste hym nu to non unrede; Nu him ne lust namore pleye; He wile gon a rihte weye.”

Nightingale Thenihtegale wes al ware —line216 Heo hedde ileorned wel ihware. “Ule,” heo seyde, “seye me soth, Hwi dostu that unwihtes doth? Thu singest a nyht and nouht a day,line220 And al thi song is ‘waylaway’! Thu miht mid thine songe afere Alle that hereth thine ibere. Thu scrichest and yollest to thine fere That hit is gryslish to ihere.line225 Hit thincheth bothe wise and snepe Nouht that thu singe ac that thu wepe! Thu flyhst a nyht and noht a day — Tharof ich wundri, and wel may, For uych thing that schonyeth rihtline230 Hit luvyeth thuster and hateth lyht; And euych thing that luveth misdede Hit luveth thuster to his dede. A wis word, theyh hit beo unclene, Is fele monne a muthe imene,fol. 157vb For Alvred King hit seyde and wrot:line236 ‘He schuneth that hine ful wot.’ Ich wene that thu dost also, For thu flyhst nyhtes evermo. And other thing me is a wene:line240 Thu havest a nyht wel bryhte sene; Bi daye thu art stare-blynd That thu ne syst bouh of lynd; A day thu art blynd other bisne! Tharby men seggeth a vorbisne:line245 ‘Riht so hit farth bi than ungode That nouht ne isyhth to none gode And is so ful of uvele wrenche That him ne may no mon aprenche, And con wel thene thustre wayline250 And thane bryhte lat away.’ So doth that beoth of thine cunde — Of lihte nabbeth hi none imunde.”

Owl Theosule luste swithe longe And wes ofteoned swithe stronge.line255 Heo quath: “Thu hattest ‘nihtegale,’ Thu mihtest bet hote ‘galegale’ Vor thu havest to monye tale! Let thine tunge habbe spale! Thu wenest that thes day beo thin owe!line260 Let me nu habbe myne throwe! Beo nu stille and let me speke! Ich wile beo of the awreke! And lust hw ich con me bitelle Mid rihte sothe withute spelle.line265 Thu seyst that ich me hude a day — Tharto ne segge ich nyk no nay — And lust ich telle hwervore Al hwi hit is and hwarevore:fol. 158ra Ich habbe bile stif and strong,line270 And gode clevres, scharp and longe, So hit bycumeth to hauekes cunne. Hit is myn hyhte and my wunne That ich me drawe to mine cunde. Ne may me no mon tharfor sende —line275 On me, hit is wel isene For rihte cunde ich am so kene. Vorthi ich am loth smale vowele That fleoth bi grunde and bi thuvele; Hi me bichirmeth and bigredeth,line280 And heore flockes to me ledeth. Me is leof to habbe reste And sitte stille in myne neste, Vor nere ich never the betere Theyh ich, mid changling and myd chatere,line285 Heom schende and myd fule worde, So herdes doth, other mid sit-worde. Ne lust me with the screwen chide, Forthi ich wende from heom wide. Hit is a wise monne dome,line290 And hi hit seggeth wel ilome, That ‘me ne chide with the gidie Ne with than ofne me ne yonie.’ At sum sythe herde i telle Hw Alvred seyde on his spelle:line295 ‘Loke that thu ne beo thare Thar changling beoth and cheste vare; Let sottes chide, and forth thu go!’ And ich am wis and do al so. And yet Alvred seyde, another syde,line300 A word that is isprunge wide: ‘That with the fule haveth imene, Ne cumeth he never from him clene.’fol. 158rb Wenestu that hauek beo the wrse The crowe bigrede him bi the merscheline305 And goth to him, myd heore chyrme, Riht so hi wille with him schirme? The hauek foleweth gode rede; He flyhth his wey and let hi grede.

Yet, thu me seyst of other thinge,line310 And tellest that ich ne can nouht singe, Ac al my reorde is wonyng, And to ihere gryslych thing. That nis nouht soth! Ich singe efne Mid fulle dreme and lude stefne.line315 Thu wenest that eoch song beo grislich That thine pipinge nis ilich. Mi stefne is bold and nouht unorne, Heo is ilich one grete horne, And thin is iliche one pypeline320 Of one smale weode, unripe. Ich singe bet than thu dest — Thu chaterest so doth on Yris prest! Ich singe an efne a ryhte time, And seththe hwenne hit is bedtime,line325 The thridde sythe a middel-nyhte, And so ich myne songe adihte. Hwenne ich iseo arise veorre Other day-rewe other day-steorre, Ic do god myd myne throteline330 And warny men, to heore note. Ac thu singest alle longe nyht From eve that hit is dayliht, And ever lesteth thin o song So longe so the nyht is long,line335 And ever croweth thi wrecche crey That he ne swiketh, nyht ne day.fol. 158va Mid thine pipinge thu adunest Thas monnes eren thar thu wunest, And makest thi song so unwihtline340 That me ne telleth of the nowiht. Evrych murethe may so longe leste That heo schal liki wel unwreste, For harpe, and pipe, and foweles song Misliketh if hit is to long.line345 Ne beo the song ne so murie, That he ne sal thinche unmurie If he ilesteth over unwille. So thu myht thi song aspille. For hit is soth Alvred hit seyde,line350 And me hit may in boke rede: ‘Evrich thing may lesen his godhede Mid unmethe and overdede.’ Mid este thu the maist overquatie, And overfulle makieth wlatie,line355 And everich murethe may agon If me hit halt ever in on, Bute one, that is: Godes riche, That ever is swete, and ever iliche. Theyh thu nyme of than lepe,line360 Hit is ever ful by hepe! Wunder hit is of Godes ryche, That ever spenth, and ever is iliche.

Yet, thu me seyst another schome — That ich am on myne eye lome —line365 And seyst, for that ich fleo bi nyhte, That ich ne may iseo bi lyhte. Thu liest! On me, hit is isene That ich habbe gode sene, Vor nys no so dym thesternesseline370 That ich ever iseo the lesse. Thu wenest that ich ne mwe iseofol. 158vb Vor ich bi daye nouht ne fleo. The hare luteth al day, Ac notheles iseo he may;line375 If hundes eorneth to himward, He gencheth swithe aweyward, And hoketh pathes swithe narewe, And haveth mid him blenches yarewe, He huphth and start swithe cove,line380 And secheth pathes to the grove. Ne scholde he, vor bo his eye, So do if he the bet ne iseye! Ich may iseo so wel so on hare Theyh ich bi daye sytte a dare —line385 Thar auhte men beoth in worre, And fareth bothe neor and feorre, And overvareth veole theode, And doth bi nyhte gode neode, Ich folewi thane ahte manneline390 And fleo bi nyhte in heore barme.”

Nightingale Thenyhtegale in hire thouhte Atheold al this and longe thouhte Hwat heo tharafter myhte segge, Vor heo ne myhte noht aleggeline395 That the ule hedde hire iseyd, Vor ho spak bothe riht and red; And hire ofthuhte that heo hadde The speche so feor uorth iladde, And wes aferd that hire answareline400 Ne wrthe nouht ariht ivare. Ac notheles heo spak boldeliche, Vor heo is wis that hardeliche With his fo berth grete ilete That he for arehthe hit ne forlete,line405 Vor suych worth bold if thu flyhst That wile fleo if thu ne swykst —fol. 159ra If he isihth that thu nart areh, He wile of bore wurche bareh! And forthi, they the nyhtegaleline410 Were aferd, heo spak bolde tale.

“Hule,” heo seyde, “hwi dostu so? Thu singest a wynter ‘wo-la-wo.’ Thu singest so doth hen a snowe — Al that heo singeth hit is for wowe!line415 A wintre thu singest wrothe and yomere, And ever thu art dumb a sumere! Hit is for thine fule nythe, That thu ne myht myd us be blithe, Vor thu forbernest neyh for onde!line420 Hwenne ure blisse cumeth to londe, Thu farest so doth the ille: Everich blisse him is unwille; Grucching and luryng him beoth rade; If he iseoth that men beoth glade,line425 He wolde that he iseye Teres in everiche monnes eye. Ne rouhte he theyh flockes were Imeynd bi toppes and bi here. Al so thu dost, on thire syde,line430 For hwanne snouh lith thikke and wide And alle wihtes habbeth sorewe, Thu singest from eve to amorewe. Ac ich mid me alle blisse bringe; Ech wiht is glad for myne thingeline435 And blesseth hit hwenne ich cume, And hihteth ayeyn myne cume. The blostme gynneth springe and sprede Bothe in treo and ek in mede. The lilie myd hire fayre wliteline440 Welcometh me, theyh thu hit wite, Bid me myd hire fayre bleofol. 159rb That ich schulle to hire fleo. The rose, also, myd hire rude, That cumeth of the thorne wode,line445 Bit me that ich schulle singe For hire luve one skentynge. And ich so do, thureh nyht and day — The more ich singe, the more ich may! — And skente hi myd myne songe,line450 Ac notheles nouht overlonge. Hwenne ich iseo that men beoth glade, Ich nelle that hi beon to sade — Hwenne is ido for hwan ich com, Ich vare ayeyn and do wisdom;line455 Hwanne mon howieth of his sheve, And falewi cumeth of grene leve, Ich fare hom and nyme leve. Ne recche ich nouht of wyntres teone! Hwanne ich iseo that cumeth that harde,line460 Ich fare hom to myn erde And habbe bothe luve and thonk That ich her com and hider swonk. Hwanne myn erende is ido, Scholde ich bileve? Nay! Hwarto?line465 Vor he nys nother yep ne wis That longe abid thar him no neod is.”

Owl Theosule luste and leyde an hord Al this mot, word after word, And after thouhte hw heo myhteline470 Onswere vynde best myd rihte, Vor he mot ful wel him bithenche That is aferd of playtes wrenche.

“Thu ayssest me,” the ule seyde, “Hwi ich a wynter singe and grede.line475 Hit is gode monne ywune, And was from the worlde frume,fol. 159va That ech god mon his frend iknowe And blissi myd heom sume throwe In his huse at his bordeline480 Mid fayre speche and fayre worde, And hure and hure to Cristesmasse, Hwenne riche and poure, more and lasse, Singeth cundut nyht and day, Ich heom helpe hwat ich may!line485 And ek ich thenche of other thinge Thane to pleye other to singe — Ich habbe herto god onsware, Anon iredi and al ware! Vor sumerestyde is al wlonk,line490 And doth mysreken monnes thonk Vor he ne rekth noht of clennesse, Al his thouht is of golnesse, Vor none dor no leng nabideth, Ac everich up other rideth.line495 The sulve stottes yne the stode Beth bothe wilde and mare-wode, And thu sulf art tharamong Vor of golnysse is al thi song, And, ayeyn thet thu wilt teme,line500 Thu art wel modi and wel breme. Sone so thu havest itrede, Ne myht thu leng a word iquethe Ac pipest al so doth a mose, Mid cokeringe mid stefne hose,line505 Yet thu singest wrse than the hey-sugge That flyhth bi grunde among the stubbe. Hwenne thi lust is ago, Thenne is thi song ago al so. A sumere chorles aweydethline510 And vorcrempeth and vorbredeth —fol. 159vb Hit nys for luve, notheles, Ac is theos cherles wode res, Vor hwanne he haveth ido his dede, Ifalle is al his boldhede;line515 Habbe he istunge under gore, Ne last his luve no leng more. Al so hit is on thine mode: So sone so thu sittest abrode, Thu forleost al thine wise.line520 Al so thu varest on thine ryse: Hwenne thu havest ido thi gome, Thi stefne goth anon to schome! Ac hwenne nyhtes cumeth longe And bryngeth forstes starke and stronge,line525 Thanne erest hit is isene Hwar is the snelle, hwar the kene; At than harde, me may avynde Hwo goth forth, hwo lyth bihynde. Me may iseon at thare neode,line530 Hwan me schal harde wike beode, Thanne ich am snel and pleye and singe, And hyhte me myd my skentinge. Of none wyntre ich ne recche Vor ich nam non aswunde wrecche!line535 And ek, ich froueri fele wihte That myd heom nabbeth non mihte; Hi beoth houhful and wel arme, And secheth yorne to then warme. Ofte ich singe for hem the moreline540 For lutly sum of heore sore. Hw thinkth the? Artu inume? Artu myd rihte overcume?”

Nightingale “Nay! Nay!” seyde the nihtegale, “Thu schalt ihere onother tale!fol. 160ra Yet nis theos speche ibroht to dome,line546 Ac be stille and lust nu to me! Ich schal, mid one bare worde, Do that thi speche wrth forwurthe!”

Owl “That nere noht riht!” the ule seyde.line550 “Thu havest bicleped al so thu bede, And ich the habbe iyive onswere! Ac are we to unker dome fare, Ich wile speke toward the Al so thu speke toward me,line555 And thu me onswere if thu myht. Sey me nu, thu wrecche wiht, Is in the eny other note Bute thu havest schille throte? Thu nart nouht to non other thingeline560 Bute thu canst of chateringe, Vor thu art lutel and unstrong, And nys thi ryel nowiht long. Hwat dostu godes among monne? Namo thene doth a wrecche wrenne!line565 Of the ne cumeth non other god Bute thu gredest swich thu be wod, And beo thi piping overgo, Ne beoth on the craftes namo. Alvred seyde, that wes wisline570 (He myhte wel, for soth hit is): ‘Nis no mon for his bare songe Leof ne wrth noht swithe longe, Vor that is o furwrthe man That bute singe naht ne can.’line575 Thu nart bute o furwrthe thing; On the nys bute chateryng; Thu art dym and of fule heowe, And thinchest a lytel, soty clewe.fol. 160rb Thu nart fayr; ne thu nart strong;line580 Ne thu nart thikke; ne thu nart long; Thu havest ymyst of fayrhede, And lutel is thi godhede. Another thing of the ich mene: Thu nart feyr ne thu nart cleneline585 Hwanne thu cumest to monne hawe, Thar thornes beoth and ris idrawe Bi hegge and bi thikke weode, Thar men goth to heore neode. Tharto thu draust, tharto thu wunst,line590 And other clene stude thu schunest. Hwanne ich fleo nyhtes after muse, Ich may the vinde at the run-huse Among the wede, among the netle. Thu syttest and singst bihinde seotle!line595 Thar me the may, ilomest, fynde Thar men worpeth heore byhinde. Yet, thu atwitest me myne mete, And seyst that ich fule wyhtes ete, Ac hwat etestu — that thu ne lye! —line600 Bute attercoppe and fule ulye And wurmes — if thu myht fynde Among the volde of harde rynde? Yet, ich can do wel gode wike, For ich can loki monne wike,line605 And mine wike beoth wel gode For ich helpe to monne vode: Ich can nyme mus at berne And ek at chireche in the derne, For me is leof, to Cristes huse,line610 To clansi hit with fule muse — Ne schal thar never cume to Ful wiht, if ich hit may ivo!fol. 160va And if me lust, on my skenting, To wernen other wunying,line615 Ich habbe at wode treon grete Mid thikke bowe, nothing blete, Mid ivi grene al bigrowe That ever stont iliche iblowe, And his heou never ne vorleostline620 Hwanne hit snywe ne frost. Tharinne ic habbe god ihold — A wintre warm, a sumere cold. Thane myn hus stont briht and grene, Of thine nys nowiht isene.line625 Yet, thu me telst of other thinge: Of myne briddes seyst gabbinge That heore nest nys nouht clene; Hit is fale other wihte imene, Vor hors a stable and oxe a stalleline630 Doth al that heom wile thar valle; And lutle childre in the cradele — Bothe cheorles and ek athele — Doth al that in heore youhthe. That hi vorleteth in heore duhthe.line635 Hwat can that yongling hit bihede? Yf hit mysketh, hit mot nede. A vorbisne is of olde iwurne: ‘That neode maketh old wif eorne.’ And yet, ic habbe another onswere:line640 Wiltu to myne neste vare And loki hw hit is idiht? If thu art wis, leorny thu miht: Mi nest is holeuh and rum amidde, So hit is softest myne bridde;line645 Hit is ibroyde al abute, Vrom the neste veor withute. Tharto hi goth to heore neode,fol. 160vb Ac thu menest ich heom forbode. We yeme nymeth of manne bure,line650 And after than we makieth ure. Men habbeth, among othre iyende, A run-hus at heore bures ende Vor that hi nelleth to veor go, And myne briddes doth al so.line655 Syte nu stille, chaterestre! Nere thu never ibunde vastre — Herto, ne vyndestu never answere. Hong up thin ax! Nu thu miht fare!”

Nightingale Thenihtegale, at thisse worde,line660 Was wel neyh ut of rede iworthe And thouhte yorne on hire mode Yf heo ouht elles understode— Yf heo cuthe ouht bute singe— That myhte helpe to other thinge.line665 Herto heo moste answere vynde, Other mid alle beon bihinde, And hit is strong to vyhte Ayeyn sothe and ayeyn rihte. He mot gon to al mid gynneline670 Hwan the horte beoth on winne, And the man mot other segge — He mot bihemme and bilegge — If muth withute may biwreo That me the horte nouht niseo.line675 And sone may a word mysreke Thar muth schal ayeyn horte speke; And sone may a word myssturte Thar muth shal speke ayeyn horte. Ac notheles, hyet upe thon,line680 Her is to red, hwo hyne con: Vor never nys wit so kene So hwanne red him is a wene;fol. 161ra Thanne erest cumeth his yephede Hwenne hit is alremest on drede.line685 For Alvred seyde of olde quide And hyet hit nis of horte islide: ‘Hwenne the bale is alre-hekst, Thenne is the bote alre-nest.’ Vor wit west among his soreline690 And for his sore hit is the more. Vorthi nis never mon redles Ar his horte beo witles. Ac if he furleost his wit, Thenne is his red-purs al toslyt —line695 If he ne con his wit atholde, Ne vynt he red in none volde! Vor Alvred seyde that wel cuthe, Ever he spak mid sothe muthe: ‘Hwenne the bale is alre-hekst,line700 Thenne is the bote alre-nexst.’

Thenihtegale al hire howe Mid rede hadde wel bitowe; Among the harde, among the towehte, Ful wel myd rede hire bithouhte,line705 And hedde onswere god ifunde Among alle hire harde stunde. “Ule, thu axest me,” heo seyde, “If ich con eny other dede Bute syngen in sumeretydeline710 And bringe blisse veor and wyde. Hwy axestu of craftes myne? Beter is myn on than alle thine! Beter is o song of myne muthe Than al that thi kun kuthe!line715 And, lust, ich telle the hwarvore: Wostu to hwan mon wes ibore? To thare blisse of heveryche,fol. 161rb Thar ever is song and murehthe ilyche. Thider fundeth everich man,line720 That enything of gode can. Forthi me syngth in Holy Chireche, And clerekes gynneth songes wrche: That mon ythenche, bi the songe, Hwider he shal and thar ben longe;line725 That he the murehthe ne voryete, Ac tharof thenche and bigete, And nyme yeme of chirche-stefne Hw murie is the blisse of hevene! Clerekes, munekes, and canunesline730 Thar beoth thos gode wike-tunes Ariseth up to middel-nyhte And singeth of thon hevene lyhte, And preostes upe londe singeth Hwenne the liht of day springeth;line735 And ich heom helpe hwat ic may! Ich singe myd hem nyht and day, And heo beoth alle, for me, the gladdere And to the songe beoth the raddure. Ich warny men to heore godeline740 That hi beon blythe on heore mode, And bidden that hi moten iseche That ilche song that ever is eche. Nu thu myht, ule, sitte and clynge! Her among nys no chateringe —line745 Ich graunti that thu go to dome Tovore the sulve Pope of Rome! Ac abid yete, notheles — Thu schalt abyde onother bles: Ne schaltu, vor Engelonde,line750 At thisse worde me atstonde. Hwy atwitestu me myne unstrengthe, And myne ungrete and myn unlengthe, And sayst that ich am nouht strongfol. 161va Vor ic nam nother gret ne long?line755 Ac thu nost never hwat thu menest, Bute lese wordes thu me lenest, For ic kan craft and ic kan lyste, And tharfore ic am thus thriste! Ich kan wit and song mony eine,line760 Ne triste ic to non other mayne, Vor soth hit is that seyde Alvred: ‘Ne may no strengthe ayeyn red.’ Oft spet wel a lute lyste Thar muche strengthe solde myste.line765 Mid lutle strengthe, thureh ginne Castel and bureh me may winne; Mid liste, me may walles felle, And werpe of horse knyhtes snelle. Uvel strengthe is lutel wrth,line770 Ac wisdom ne wrth never unwrth. Thu myht iseo thurh alle thing That wisdom naveth non evening: An hors is strenger than a mon, Ac for hit non iwit ne kon,line775 Hit berth on rugge grete semes, And drahth bi sweore grete temes, And tholeth bothe yerd and spure, And stont iteyed at mulne-dure, And hit doth that mon hit hot;line780 And forthan that hit no wit not, Ne may his strengthe hit ischilde That hit nabuhth the lutle childe. Mon doth, mid strengthe and mid witte, That other thing nys non his fitte.line785 They alle strengthe at one were, Monnes wit yet more were, Vor the mon myd his craftefol. 161vb Overcumeth al eorthliche shafte. Al so, ic do, myd myne one songe,line790 Bet than thu alle yer longe. Vor myne crafte, men me luvyeth; Vor thine strengthe, men the schunyeth. Telstu bi me the wrs forthan That ic bute enne craft ne kan?line795 If twey men goth to wrastlinge, And eyther other vaste thringe, And the on can swenges swithe fele And kan his wrenches wel forhele, And the other ne can sweng bute anneline800 And the is god with eche manne, And myd than one leyth to grunde Anne after other a lutle stunde, Hwat tharf he recche of a mo swenge Hwenne the on him is so genge?line805 Thu seyst that thu canst fele wike, Ac ever ich am thin unyliche. Do thine craftes alle togadere, Yet is myn on heorte betere. Ofte, hwan hundes foxes driveth,line810 The kat ful wel him sulve liveth, Theh he ne cunne wreynch bute anne. The fox so godne ne can nanne, They he cunne so vele wrenche That he weneth eche hunde atprenche.line815 Vor he can pathes rihte and wowe, And he can hongi bi the bowe And so vorlest the hund his fore And turnth eft ayeyn to the more. The fox can crepe by the heye,line820 And turne ut from his forme weye, And eftsone cume tharto;fol. 162ra Thenne is thes hundes smel fordo, He not thurh the meynde smak Hwether he schal vorth the abak.line825 If the vox miste of al this dwele, At than ende he creophth to hole. Ac natheles, myd al his wrenche, Ne can he hine so bithenche — They he beo yep and swithe snel —line830 That he ne leost his rede vel. The kat ne can wrench bute anne, Nother bi dune ne bi venne: Bute he can clymbe swithe wel — Tharmyd he wereth his greye vel!line835 Al so ich segge bi my seolve: Beter is myn on than thine twelve.”

Owl “Abid! Abid!” the ule seyde, “Thu gest al to mid swikelhede. Alle thine wordes thu bileystline840 That hit thinkth soth that thu seyst! Alle thine wordes beoth isliked, And so bisemed and biliked That alle heo that hi avoth Hi weneth that thu segge soth!line845 Abid! Abid! Me schal the yene! Nu hit schal wrthe wel isene That thu havest muchel ilowe Hwenne thi lesing beoth unwrowe! Thu seist that thu singest moncunneline850 And techest heom that hi fundeth heonne Up to the songe that ever ilast. Ac hit is alre wndre mest That thu darst lye so opeliche. Wenestu hi bringe so lyhtlicheline855 To Godes riche, al singinde?fol. 162rb Nay! Nay! Hi schule wel avynde That hi myd longe wope mote Of heore sunnen bidde bote Ar hi mote ever cume thare.line860 Ich rede thi that men beo ware And more wepe than singe, That fundeth to than hevene Kynge. For nys no mon withuten sunne, Forthi he mot, ar he wende heonne,line865 Mid teres and myd wope bete, That him beo sur that er was swete. Tharto ich helpe, God hit wot! Ne singe ich heom no foliot Vor al my song is of longingeline870 And ymeynd sumdel myd woninge, That mon, bi me, hine bithenche That he grony for his unwrenche; Mid myne songe ich hine pulte That he grony for his gulte.line875 If thu gest herof to disputinge, Ich wepe bet than thu singe! If riht goth forth and abak wrong, Betere is my wop than thi song. Theyh summe men beon thurhut gode,line880 And thurhut clene on heore mode, Heom longeth heonne notheles; That beoth her wo is hom thes, Vor theyh hi beo heomselve iborewe, Hi ne seoth her nowiht bute serewe.line885 Vor other men hi wepeth sore, And for heom biddeth Cristes ore. Ich helpe monne on eyther halve; Mi muth haveth tweire kunne salve: Than gode ich fulste to longinge,fol. 162va Vor hwenne him longeth, ic him singe;line891 And than sunfulle ic helpe also, Vor ic him teche hwar is wo. Yet, ic the yene onother wise, Vor hwenne thu sittest on thine rise,line895 Thu drahst men to fleyses luste That wileth thine songes luste. Al thu vorleost the murehthe of hevene, For, tharto, navestu none stevene; Al that thu singest is of golnesse,line900 For nys on the non holynesse! Ne weneth no mon for thi pipinge That eny preost in chirche singe. Yet, ic the wile onother segge If thu hit const ariht bilegge:line905 Hwi nultu singe onother theode, Thar hit is muchele more neode? Thu never ne singest in Irlonde, Ne thu ne cumest in Scotlonde. Hwi nultu vare to Norweye,line910 And singen men of Galeweye? Thar beoth men that litel kunne Of songe that is under sunne. Hwi nultu thare preoste singe And teche of thire writelingeline915 And wisi heom myd thire stefne Hw engles singeth in the hevene? Thu farest so doth on ydel wel That springeth bi burne that is snel, And let fordruye the dune,line920 And flohth an ydel thar adune. Ac ich fare north and south; In everich londe ich am cuth: East and west, south and north.fol. 162vb I do wel fayre my mester,line925 And warny men mid myne bere, That thi dwele-song heo ne forlere. Ich wisse men myd myne songe That hi ne sunegi nowiht longe; Ich bidde heom that heo iswikeline930 That heomseolve ne biswike, For betere is that heo wepe here Than elleshwar beo deovele yvere.”

Nightingale Thenihtegale wes agromed And ek sumdel ofschomedline935 For the ule hire atwiten hedde In hwiche stude ho sat and gradde: Bihinde the bure, among the wed, Thar men gon to heore ned; And sat sumdel and ho bithouhte,line940 And wiste wel on hire thouhte The wraththe binymeth monnes red, For hit seyde the King Alvred: “Selde endeth wel the lothe, And selde playdeth wel the wrothe” —line945 For wraththe meynth the heorte blod That hit floweth so wilde flod And al the heorte overgeth, That heo naveth na thing bute breth, And so vorleost al his lyht,line950 That ho ne syhth soth ne riht. The nyhtegale hi understod, And avergan lette hire mod; He myhte bet speken isele Than myd wraththe wordes dele.

line955 “Ule,” heo seyde, “lust nu hider: Thu schalt falle; thi wey is slider. Thu seyst ich fleo bihinde bure;fol. 163ra Hit is riht, the bur is ure. Thar louerd liggeth and levedy,line960 Ich schal heom synge and sitte bi. Wenestu that wise men forlete Vor fule venne the rihte strete? Ne sunne the later schyne, Theyh hit beo ful in neste thine?line965 Schold ich, for one hole brede, Furlete myne rihte stede That ich ne singe bi the bedde, Thar louerd haveth his lavedi bedde? Hit is my rihte, hit is my lawe,line970 That to the hexste ich me drawe. Ac if thu yelpst of thine songe — That thu kanst yolle urothe and stronge — And seyst thu wisest monkunne That hi biwepen heore sunne,line975 Solde everuych mon wony and grede Riht such hi weren unlede? Scholde hi yollen al so thu dest, Hi myhten afere heore preost. Mon schal beo stille and noht grede;line980 He mot biwepe his mysdede. Ac thar is Cristes heriynge Thar me grede and lude singe; Nis nother to lude ne to long, At rihte tyme chirche song.line985 Thu yollest and wonest, and ic singe; Thi stefne is wop, and myn skentinge. Ever mote thu yolle and wepen That thu thi lif mote forleten, And yolle mote thu so heye,line990 That ut tobersten bo thin eye! Hwether is betere of tweyre twom:fol. 163rb That mon beo blithe other grom? So beo hit ever, in unker sithe, That thu beo sori and ich blithe.line995 Yet, thu ayschest hwi ic ne vare Into other londe and singe thare. No! Hwat schold ich among heom do Thar never blisse ne com to? That lond nys god ne hit nys este,line1000 Ac wildernesse hit is and weste, Knarres and cludes hovenetinge. Snou and hawel hom is genge; That lond is grislich and unvele! The men beoth wilde and unsele;line1005 Hi nabbeth nother grith ne sibbe. Hi ne reccheth hw hi libbe: Hi eteth fys and fleys unsode, Suych wolves hit hadde tobroude. Hi drinketh mylk and hwey tharto —line1010 Hi nuteth elles hwet hi do — Hi nabbeth noht wyn ne beor, Ac libbeth al so wilde deor, Hi goth bytuht myd rowe felle, Riht suych hi come ut of helle.line1015 They eny god man to heom come (So hwile dude sum from Rome) For heom to lere gode thewes And for to lete heore unthewes, He myhte bet sytte stille,line1020 Vor al his hwile he scolde spille! He myhte bet teche ane beore To bere scheld and spere, Thane that wilde volk ibringe That hi me wolde ihere singe.line1025 Hwat schold ich thar mid myne songe?fol. 163va Ne singe ic heom never so longe, Mi song were ispild uych del: For heom ne may halter ne bridel Bringe from here wode wyse,line1030 Ne mon mid stele ne mid ise. Ac thar lond is este and god, And thar men habbeth mylde mod, Ic notye myd heom mine throte, For ic may do thar gode note,line1035 And bringe heom leve tydinge, For ic of chirche songe singe. Hit wes isayd in olde lawe, That yet ilast thilke soth-sawe, That ‘Mon schal eryen and soweline1040 Thar he weneth after god mowe, For he is wod that soweth his sed Thar never gras ne springth ne bled.’”

Owl Theule wes wroth, to cheste rad; Mid thisse worde, hire eyen abraid:line1045 “Thu seyst thu witest monne bures, Thar leves beoth and fayre flures, Thar two yleove in one bedde Liggeth iclupt, and wel bihedde. Enes thu sunge ic wot wel hwareline1050 Bi one bure and woldest lere The levedi to an uvel luve, And sunge bothe lowe and buve, And leredest hi to don schome And unriht of hire lichome.line1055 The louerd that sone underyat; Lym, and grune, and wel ihwat Sette and leyde the for to lacche. Thu come sone to than hacche: Thu were ynume in one grune —fol. 163vb Al hit abouhte thine schine!line1061 Thu neddest non other dom ne lawe Bute myd wilde hors were todrawe! Vonde if thu myht eft mysrede Hwether thu wilt, wif the meyde —line1065 Thi song mai beo so longe genge That thu schalt hwippen on a sprenge!”

Nightingale Thenihtegale, at thisse worde, Mid swerde and myd speres orde, If heo mon were, wolde vyhteline1070 Ac tho heo bet do ne mihte, Heo vauht myd hire wise tunge. “Wel viht that wel spekth,” seyth in the songe. Of hire tunge heo nom red. “Wel viht that wel spekth,” seyde Alvred.

line1075 “Hwat? Seystu this for myne schome? The louerd hadde herof grome. He wes so gelus of his wyve That he ne myhte, vo his lyve, Iseo that mon with hire spekeline1080 That his heorte nolde breke. He hire bilek in one bure That hire was stronge and sure. Ic hadde of hire milce and ore, And sori was for hire sore,line1085 And skente hi mid myne songe Al that ic mihte, rathe and longe. Vorthan, the knyht wes with me wroth, Vor rihte nythe ic wes him loth. He dude me his owe schome,line1090 Ac al hit turnde him eft to grome. That underyat the Kyng Henri. (Jhesu his soule do mercy!) He let forbonne thene knyhtfol. 164ra That hadde ido suich unrihtline1095 In so gode kynges londe, For rihte nythe and ful onde, Let thane lytel fowel nyme And him fordeme lif and lyme. Hit wes wrthsipe al myne kunne!line1100 Forthon, the knyht furles his wnne, And yaf for me an hundred punde, And myne briddes seten ysunde, And hedde seththe blisse and hihte, And were blithe, and wel myhte,line1105 Vorthan ic wes so wel awreke. Ever eft, ich dar the bet speke For hit bitydde ene so. Ich am the blithure evermo! Nu ic may singe hwar ic wile,line1110 Ne dar me never eft mon agrulle. Ac thu ermyng, thu wrecche gost, Thu ne canst fynde ne thu nost An holeh stoc hwar thu the miht hude, That me ne twenge thine hude,line1115 Vor children, gromes, heme, and hine, Hi thencheth alle of thine pine. If hi mowe iseo the sitte, Stones hi doth in heore slytte, And the totorveth and toheneth,line1120 And thine fule bon toscheneth. If thu art iworpe other iscote, Thenne thu myht erest to note, Vor me the hoth in one rodde, And thu, myd thine fule coddeline1125 And myd thine ateliche sweore, Biwerest monne corn from deore. Nis nouther nouht thi lif ne blod,fol. 164rb Ac thu art sheules swithe god Thar newe sedes beoth isowe.line1130 Pynnue, goldfynch, rok, ne crowe Ne dar never cumen ihende If thi buk hongeth at than ende. Thar treon schulleth a yer blowe, And yonge sedes springe and growe,line1135 Ne dar no fuoel tharto fonge If thu are tharover ihonge. Thi lif is ever luther and qued; Thu nart nouht bute ded! Nu thu myht wite, sikerliche,line1140 That thine leches beoth grisliche The hwile thu art on lyf-daye, Vor hwenne thu hongest, islawe, Yet hi beoth of the atdradde, The foweles that the er bigradde.line1145 Mid rihte men beoth with the wrothe For thu singest of heore lothe; Al that thu singest, rathe other late, Hit is ever of mannes unhwate. Hwanne thu havest a nyht igrad,line1150 Men beoth of the wel sore aferd. Thu singst thar sum man sal beo ded. Ever thu bodest sumne qued: Thu singst ayeyn ayhte lure, Other of summe urendes rure;line1155 Other thu bodest huses brune, Other ferde of manne, other theves rune; Other thu bodest qualm of orve, Other that lond-folc wrth idorve, Other that wif leost hire make;line1160 Other thu bodest cheste and sake. Ever thu singest of manne harme!fol. 164va Thurh the, hi beoth sorie and arme. Thu ne singest never one sythe That hit nys for summe unsythe.line1165 Hervore hit is that me the suneth, And the totorveth and tobuneth Mid stave and stone, and turf and clute, That thu ne myht noware atrute. Dahet ever budel in tuneline1170 That bedeth unwreste rune And ever bringeth uvele tydinge And that speketh of uvele thinge! God Almyhti wrthe him wroth And al that wereth lynnene cloth!”

Owl Theule nabod noht swithe longeline1176 Ac yef answere stark and stronge: “Hwat?” queth heo. “Ertu ihoded, Other thu cursest unihoded? For prestes wike ic wot thu dest.line1180 Ich not if thu were preost; Ich not if thu canst masse singe — Inouh thu canst of mansynge! Ac hit is for thine olde nythe, That thu me acursedest other sithe!line1185 Ac tharto is lihtlych answere: ‘Drah to the!’ queth the kartere. Hwi atwitestu me myne insihte, And min iwit, and myne myhte? For ich am witi, ful iwis,line1190 And wot al that to comen is: Ich wot of hunger, of heregonge; Ich wot if men sulle libbe longe; Ic wot if wif lust hire make; Ic wot hwar sal beo nith and wrake;line1195 Ic wot hwo sal beo anhonge, Other elles fulne deth avonge; If men habbeth batayle inume, Ic wot hwather sal beo overcume;fol. 164vb Ic wot if qualm sal cumen on orve,line1200 And if deor schulle ligge astorve; Ic wot if tren schulle blowe; Ic wot if corn schulle growe; Ic wot if huses schulle berne; Ic wot if men sulle eorne other erne;line1205 Ic wot if sea sal schipes drenche; Ic wot if smithes sale uvele clenche. And ic con muchele more: Ic con ynouh in bokes lore, And ek ic can of the godspelleline1210 More than ic wile the telle, Vor ic at chireche cume ilome And muchel leorny of wisdome. Ic wot al of the toknynge, And of other vale thinge.line1215 If eny mon schal rem abide, Al ic hit wot ar hit ityde. Ofte, vor myne muchele witte, Wel sori-mod and wroth i sytte; Hwanne ic iseo ther sum wrecchedeline1220 Is cumynde neyh, inoh ic grede. Ic bidde ther men beon warre And habbe gode redes yare, Vor Alvred seyde a wis word (Uych mon hit scholde legge on hord):line1225 ‘If thu isyst her heo beo icume, His strengthe is him wel neyh binume.’ And grete duntes beoth the lasse If me ikepeth myd iwarnesse, And fleo schal toward misyengeline1230 If thu isihst hw fleo of strenge, For thu myht blenche and fleo If thu isihst heo to the teo. Thauh eny mon beo falle in edwite, Hwi schal he me his sor atwite?line1235 Thauh ic iseo his harm bivore,fol. 165ra Ne cumeth hit nouht of me tharfore. Thah thu iseo that sum blynd mon That nanne rihtne wey ne con To thare diche his dwele voleweth,line1240 And falleth and tharonne sulieth, Wenestu, thah ic al iseo, That hit for me the rather beo? Al so hit fareth bi mine witte: Hwanne ic on myne bowe sitte,line1245 Ic wot and iseo swithe brihte That summe men cumeth harm thar-rihte. Sal he, thar he nowiht not, Hit wite me vor ic hit wot? Sal he his myshap wyten meline1250 Vor ic am wisure than he? Hwanne ic iseo that sum wrechede Is manne neyh, inouh ic grede And bidde inouh that hi heom schilde Vor toward heom is harm unmylde;line1255 Ac thah ic grede, lude and stille, Al iwurth Godes wille. Hwi wulleth men of me mene Thah ic mid sothe heo awene? Thah ic hi warny al that yer,line1260 Nis heom tharvore harem the ner. Ac ich singe vor ich wolde Ther hi wel understonde scholde That sum unsel heom is ihende. Hwen ic myn huyng to heom sende,line1265 Naveth mon no sikerhede That he ne may wene and adrede That sum unhap neih him beo, Thah he ne cunne hit iseo. Forthi seyde Alvred swithe welline1270 (And his word wes godspel) That ‘everich mon the bet him beo, Ever the bet he him biseo.’fol. 165rb Ne triste no mon to his wele To swithe, thah he habbe vele.line1275 Nis noht so hot that hit nacoleth, Ne noht so hwit that hit ne soleth, Ne noht so leof that hit nalotheth, Ne noht so glad that hit nawretheth; Ac everich thing that eche nysline1280 Agon schal and al this worldes blis. Nu thu miht witen redeliche That ever thu spekest gidiliche, For al thu me seyst vor schame Ever the-solve hit turneth to grome.line1285 Go so hit go, at eche fenge Thu vallest myd thin owe swenge! Al that thu sayst for me to schende Hit ys my wrthsipe at than ende. Bute thu wille bet agynne,line1290 Ne schaltu bute schame iwynne.”

Nightingale Thenyhtegale sat and syhte, And hauhful was and wel myhte, For the ule so ispeke hadde And hire speche so iladdeline1295 Heo wes houhful and erede Hwat heo tharafter hire seyde, Ac notheles heo hire understod. “Hwat?” heo seyde. “Ule, artu wod? Thu yelpest of selliche wisdome;line1300 Thu nustest hwenne hit the come Bute hit of wicchecrafte were. Tharof, thu wrecche, most the skere If thu wilt among manne beo, Other thu most of londe fleoline1305 Vor alle theo that therof cuthe, Heo weren ifurn, of prestes muthe, Amansed, such thu art yette — The wicchecrafte never ne lete! Ic the seyde nu lutel ere,line1310 And thu askedest if ich werefol. 165va A bysemare to preoste ihoded, Ac the mansyng is so ibroded Thauh no preost a londe nere A wrecche natheles thu were,line1315 For everich child the clepede ‘fule,’ And everiche man ‘a wrecche ule.’ Ic habbe iherd, and soth hit is, The mon mot beo wel sturre-wis And wite inoh of hwiche thinge cume,line1320 So thu seyst that is iwune. Hwat constu, wrecche thing, of storre, Bute that thu bihaitest hi ferre, Al so doth mony deor and man Theo of suyche nowiht ne can?line1325 On ape may on bok biholde, And leves wende, and eft folde, Ac he ne con the bet tharvore Of clerkes lore, top ne more. They thu iseo the steorre, al so,line1330 Nertu the wisere never the mo. Ac yet, thu fule thing, me chist And wel grimlyche me atwist That ic singe bi manne huse, And theche wyve breke spuse.line1335 Thu lyest iwis, thu fule thing! Thurh me, nes never isend spusing, Ac soth hit is ich singe and grede Thar levedis beoth and feyre meide, And soth hit is of luve ic singe,line1340 For god wif may in spusinge Bet luvyen hire owe were Than onother, hire copinere. And mayde may luve cheose That hire treuschipe ne forleose,line1345 And luvye mid rihte luve Thane that schal hire beo bove. Suyche luve ic theche and lere;fol. 165vb Tharof beoth al myne ilere. Thauh sum wif beo of neysse mode —line1350 Vor wymmen beoth of softe blode — That heo, vor summe sottes lore The yorne bit and syketh sore, Misnyme and misdo sume stunde, Schal ic tharvore beo ibunde?line1355 Yef wymmen luvyeth for unrede, Witestu me heore mysdede? If wymmon thencheth luvye derne, Ne may ic myne songes werne. Wymmon may pleye under clotheline1360 Hwether heo wile wel the wrothe; And heo may do bi myne songe Hwether heo wile wel the wronge, Vor nys a worlde thing so god That ne may do sum ungodline1365 If me hit wile turne amys. Vor gold and seolver god hit is, And natheles tharmyd thu myht Spus-bruche bugge and unryht. Wepne beoth gode grith to holde,line1370 And, natheles, tharmyd beoth men aquolde Ayeynes riht of alle londe Thar theoves hi bereth an honde. Al so hit is bi myne songe: Thah heo beo god, me hine may mysfongeline1375 And drawe hine to sothede And to othre uvele dede. Ah schaltu, wrecche, luve tele? Beo hwich heo beo, uich luve is fele, Bitwene the mon and wymmone;line1380 Ah if heo is atbroyde, theonne He is unvele and forbroyde! Wroth wurthe him the Holy Rode The rihte icunde so forbreydeth! Wunder hit is that heo ne awedeth,fol. 166ra And so heo doth, vor heo beoth wodeline1386 That bute neste goth to brode! Wymmon is of neysse fleysse, And fleysses lustes is strong to queysse; Nis wunder non thah he abide,line1390 Vor fleysses lustes hi maketh slide. Ne beoth heo nouht alle forlore That stumpeth at the fleysses more, Vor mony wymmon haveth mysdo That aryst up of the slo.line1395 Ne beoth noht ones alle sunne, Vorthan hi beoth tweire ikunne: Sum arist of fleysses luste, And sum of the gostes custe. Thar fleys drahth nu men to drunkenesse,line1400 And to wlonkhede and to golnesse, The gost mysdoth thurh nyth and onde, And seththe myd murehthe of monne shonde, And wunneth after more and more, And lutel rekth of milce and ore,line1405 And styhth on heyh thur modynesse, And overhoweth thane lasse. Sey me soth, if thu hit wost: Hwether doth wurse, fleys the gost? Thu myht segge, if thu wult,line1410 That lasse is thes fleyes gult: Mony mon is of his fleysse clene That is myd mode Deovel imene. Ne schal no mon wymman bigrede And fleysses lustes hire upbreyde;line1415 Such heo mahte beo of golnesse That sunegeth wurse in modinesse. Hwet, if ic schulde a luve bringe Wif other mayde, hwanne ic singe, Ic wolde with the mayde holde.line1420 If thu const aryht atholde, Lust nu, ic segge the hwarvorefol. 166rb Up to the toppe from the more: If mayde luveth derneliche, Heo stumpeth and falth icundeliche,line1425 Vor thaih heo sumwhile pleye, Heo nys noht feor ut of the weye; Heo may hire guld atwende A rihte weye, thurh chirche-bende, And may eft habbe to makeline1430 Hire leofmon withute sake, And gon to him bi dayes lyhte That er bistal on theoster nyhte. That yongling not hwat such thing is; His yonge blod hit drahth amys,line1435 And sum sot man hit tyhth tharto Mid alle than that he may do. He cumeth and fareth and beod abid, And he bistarte another sid, And bisekth ilome and longe.line1440 Hwat may that child thah hit misfonge? Hit nuste never hwat hit was! Vorthi, hit thouhte fondi thas, And wyte iwis hwich beo the gome That of the wilde maketh tome.line1445 Ne may ic, vor reuthe, lete — Hwanne ic iseo the tohte ilete The luve bring on the yunglinge — That ic of murehthe him ne singe. Ic theche heom bi myne songeline1450 That suych luve ne last noht longe, For my song lutle wile ileste, And luve ne doth noht bute reste On such childre and sone ageth, And falth adun the hote breth.line1455 I singe myd heom one throwe; Biginne an heyh and endi lowe, And lete mine songes falle A lutle wile adun myd alle.fol. 166va That mayde wot hwenne i swikeline1460 That luve is myne songes iliche, Vor hit nys bute a lutel breth, That sone cumeth and sone geth. That child bi me hit understond, And his unred to rede iwend,line1465 And syhth wel bi myne songe That dusy luve ne last noht longe. Ac wel ic wile that thu hit wite: Loth me beoth wifes utschute, Ac wif may of me nyme yemeline1470 Ic ne singe noht hwen ic teme. And wif auh lete sottes lore, Thauh spusyng bendes byndeth sore. Wunder me thinkth stark and sor Hw eny mon so haveth forline1475 That his heorte myhte dryve To do hit to othres mannes wyve, Vor other hit is of twam thinge, Ne may the thridde no mon bringe: Other the louerd is wel auht,line1480 Other aswunde and nys nouht. If he is wrthful and auht mon, Nele no mon that wisdom can, Hure of his wive, do him schome, Vor he may him adrede grame,line1485 And that he forleose that ther hongeth That him eft tharto noht ne longeth. And thah he that nouht ne adredeth, Hit is unriht and gret sothede To mysdo one gode manne,line1490 And his ibedde from him spanne. If hire louerd is forwurthe, And unorne at bedde and at borde, Hw myhte thar beo eny luve Hwenne a cherles buk hire lay buve?line1495 Hw may ther eny luve beofol. 166vb Hwar such mon gropeth hire theo? Herbi, thu miht wel understonde That on is a reu, othres schonde, To stele to othres mannes bedde,line1500 Vor if auht man is hire ibedde, Thu myht wene that the mystide Hwanne thu lyst bi hire side, And if the louerd is a wrecche, Hwych este myhtestu thar vecche?line1505 If thu bithenchest hwo hire ofligge, Thu myht myd wlate the este bugge! Ich not hw may eny freomon Vor hire sechen after than; If he bithenkth bi hwam he lay,line1510 Al may the luve gon away.”

Owl Theule wes glad of suche tale. Heo thouhte that the nyhtegale, Thah heo wel speke at the frume, Hadde at than ende mysnume,line1515 And seyde, “Nu ich habbe ifunde That maydenes beoth of thine imunde: Mid heom thu holdest and heom biwerest, And overswithe thu hi herest. The lavedies beoth to me iwendline1520 To me hire mone heo send, For hit ityd ofte and ilome That wif and were beoth unisome, And therfore that were gulte: That leof is other wymmon to pulte,line1525 And speneth on thare al that he haveth, And syweth thare that noht naveth, And haveth at om his riche spuse, Wowes west, and lere huse, Wel thunne isrud and ived wrothe,line1530 And let heo bute mete and clothe. Hwenne he cumeth hom eft to his wyve, Ne dar he noht a word ischire.fol. 167ra He chid and gred such he beo wod, And ne bringth hom non other god.line1535 Al that heo doth him is unwille, Al that heo speketh hit is him ille, And ofte hwenne heo noht ne mysdeth, Heo haveth the fust in the theth. Nis no mon that ne may ibryngeline1540 His wif amys myd suche thinge; Me hire may so ofte mysbeode That heo do wile hire owe neode. La, God hit wot, heo nah iwelde Thah heo hine make cukeweld!line1545 For hit ityt ilome and ofte That his wif is neysse and softe, Of fayre bleo and wel idiht, Thi hit is the more unryht That he his luve spene on thareline1550 That nis wurth on of hire heare! And suche men beoth wel manyfolde, That wif ne cunne ariht holde: Ne mot no mon with hire speke; He weneth heo wile anon to brekeline1555 Hire spusyng if heo loketh Other with monne veyre speketh. He hire bilukth myd keye and loke. Tharthurh, is spusing ofte ibroke Vor if heo is tharto ibrouhtline1560 He deth that heo nedde ear ithouht. Dehaet that to swithe hit bispeke Thah suche wives heom awreke! Herof to me the levedies heom meneth And wel sore me ahweneth;line1565 Wel neyh myn heorte wile tochine Hwenne ic biholde heore pine. Mid heom ic wepe swithe sore, And for heom bidde Cristes ore — That the levedi sone areddefol. 167rb And hire sende betere ibedde.line1571 Another thing ic may the telle, And thu ne schalt, for thine felle, Onswere non tharto fynde — Al this sputing schal aswinde!line1575 Mony chapmon and mony knyht Luveth and halt his wif ariht, And so doth mony bondeman. That gode wif doth after than, And sarveth him to bedde and to bordeline1580 Mid fayre dede and fayre worde, And yorne vondeth hw heo mowe Do thing that him beo iduwe. The louerd into thare theode Vareth ut on thare beyre neode,line1585 And is that gode wif unblithe Vor hire louerdes houth-sythe, And sit and sykth, wel sore oflonged, And hire sore an heorte ongreth, Al vor hire louerdes sake.line1590 Haveth dayes kare, and nihtes wake, And swithe longe hire is the hwile, And uych stape hire thinkth a mile. Hwenne othre slepeth hire abute, Ich one lust thar wyththute,line1595 And wot of hire sore mode, And singe a nyht for hire gode; And myn gode song, for hire thinge, Ic turne sumdel to murnynge. Of hure seorwe, ic bere sume,line1600 Vorthan ic am hire wel welcume. Ic hire helpe hwat ich may For ho geth hane rihte way. And thu me havest sore igremed That myn heorte is neyh alemed,line1605 That ic may unnethe speke! Ac yet, ic wile forthurre reke.fol. 167va Thu seyst that ic am monne loth, And vich mon is with me wroth, And me myd stone and lugge threteth,line1610 And me tobursteth and tobeteth, And hwanne hi habbeth me ofslawe, Heo anhoth me in heore hawe Thar ich ascheule pie and crowe From than that ther is isowe.line1615 Thah hit beo soth, ic do heom god, And for heom ic schedde my blod. Ic do heom god myd myne dethe. Tharfore, the is wel unmethe For thah thu ligge ded and clinge,line1620 Thi deth nys nouht to none thinge. Ic not never to hwan thu myht, For thu nart bute a wreche wiht! Ah thah my lif me beo atschote, The yet ic may do gode note.line1625 Me may, uppe smale sticke, Me sette a wude ine the thikke, And so may mon tolli him to Lutle briddes and ivo, And so me may myd me byeteline1630 Wel gode brede to his mete. Ah thu never mon to gode, Lyves ne dethes, stal ne stode. Ic not to hwan thu breist thi brod: Lyves ne dethes, ne doth hit god.”

Nightingale Thenightegale iherde thisline1636 And hupte uppe on blowe ris, And herre sat thane heo dude er. “Ule,” heo seyde, “beo nu wer!fol. 167vb Nule ic with the playdi namore,line1640 Vor her thu myst thi ryhte lore. Thu yelpest that thu art monne loth, And everuich wiht is with the wroth; And myd yollinge and myd igrede, Thu thinchst wel that thu art unlede.line1645 Thu seyst that gromes the ivoth And heye on rode the anhoth, And the totwiccheth and toschaketh, And summe of the scheules maketh. Me thinkth that thu forlest that game —line1650 Thu yelpest of thire owe schome! Me thinkth that thu me gest an honde — Thu yelpest of thine owe schonde!” Tho heo hadde theos word icwede, Heo sat in one fayre stude,line1655 And tharafter hire stefne dihte And song so schille and so brihte That fur and neor me hit iherde. Tharvore, anon to hire cherde Thruysse and throstle and wodewale,line1660 And foweles bothe grete and smale, Vorthan that heom thuhte that heo hadde The ule overcome, forthan heo gradde And sungen al so vale wise, That blisse wes among the ryse,line1665 Riht so me gred the monne a schame That taveleth and forleost that gome.

Owl Theosule, tho heo this iherde, “Havestu,” heo seyde, “ibanned ferde? And wiltu, wrecche, with me vyhte?line1670 Na! Nay! Navestu none mihte!fol. 168ra Hwat gredeth, heo that hider come? Me thinkth thu ledest ferde to me. Ye schulle wite ar ye fleo heonne Hwuch is the strengthe of myne kunne,line1675 Vor theo that haveth bile ihoked And clyvres scharpe and wel icroked Alle heo beoth of myne kunrede, And wolde cumen if ich bede! The seolve cok that wel can vihte,line1680 He mot myd me holde with rihte, Vor bothe we habbe stefne brihte And sitteth under welkne bi nyhte. Schulle ic up eu on utest grede, Ich schal so stronge verde ledeline1685 That oure prude schal avalle — A tord ne yeve ic for eu alle! Ne schal, ar hit beo fullich eve, A wrecche vethere on eu bileve! Ah hit wes unker vorewardline1690 Tho we comen hyderward That we tharto holden scholde, Thar riht dom us yeve wolde. Wultu nu breke foreward? Ic wene dom the thinkth to hard.line1695 Vor thu ne darst domes abyde, Thu wilt nu, wrecche, fihte and chide. Yet, ich eu wolde alle rede, Ar ich uthest up eu grede, That eur fihtlak leteth beoline1700 And gynneth rathe ayeyn fleo, Vor, bi the clyvres that ic bere, If ye abideth myne here, Ye schulleth another wise singe And cursy alle fihtinge,line1705 Vor nys of ou non so kene That durre abide myn onsene.” Theos ule spak wel baldelyche; Vor thah heo nadde so hwatliche Ivare after hire here,fol. 168rb Heo wolde natheles yeve answereline1711 Thenihtegale myd sweche worde, For mony mon myd speres orde Haveth lutle strengthe and mid his schelde, Ah, natheles, in one felde,line1715 Thurh belde worde and myd ilete, Deth his ivo for arehthe swete.

Wren Thewrenne, for heo cuthe singe, Thar com in thare moreweninge To helpe thare nyhtegale.line1720 Vor theih heo hadde stefne smale, Heo hadde gode throte and schille, And fale monne song a wille. The wrenne wes wel wis iholde, Vor theih heo nere ibred a wolde,line1725 Heo wes itowen among mankunne, And hire wisdom brouhte thenne. Heo myhte speke hwar heo wolde, Tofore the kinge thah heo scholde. “Lusteth!” heo queth. “Leteth me speke!line1730 Hwat? Wille ye this pays tobreke And do thanne kinge such schome? Yet nys heo nouther ded ne lome. Hunke schal ityde harm and schonde If ye doth grythbruche on his londe.line1735 Leteth beo, and beoth isome, And fareth riht to eure dome, And leteth dom this playd tobreke Al so hit wes erure bispeke.”

Nightingale “Ich unne wel,” queth the nihtegale,line1740 “Ah, wrenne, nouht for thine tale, Ac do for myre lauhfulnesse; Ic nolde that unrihtfulnesse Me at then ende overcome. Ic nam ofdred of none dome.line1745 Bihote ic habbe, soth hit is, That Mayster Nichole that is wis Bitwihen us deme schulle, And yet ic wene that he wulle.fol. 168va Ah war myhte we hine fynde?”Wren The wrenne sat in hore lynde.line1751 “Hwat? Nuhte ye,” quath heo, “his hom? Heo wuneth at Porteshom, At one tune in Dorsete, Bi thare see in ore utlete.line1755 Thar he demeth mony riht dom, And diht and wryt mony wisdom, And thurh his muthe and thurh his honde, Hit is the betere into Scotlonde. To seche hyne is lyhtlych thing;line1760 He naveth buten o wunyng. That is biscopen muchel schame And alle than that of his nome Habbeth iherd and of his dede. Hwi nulleth hi nymen heom to redeline1765 That he were myd heom ilome Vor teche heom of his wisdome, And yeve him rente on vale stude That he myhte ilome heom beo myde?”

Owl “Certes,” quath the ule, “that is soth.line1770 Theos riche men muchel mysdoth That leteth thane gode man That of so fele thinge can, And yeveth rente wel mislyche And of him leteth wel lyhtliche.line1775 With heore kunne, heo beoth mildre And yeveth rente lutle childre! So heore wit hi demeth adwole That ever abit Mayster Nichole. Ah ute we thah to hym fare,line1780 Vor thar is unker dom al yare.”

Nightingale “Do we,” the nihtegale seyde, “Ah hwo schal unker speche rede, And telle tovore unker deme?”Owl Tharof, ic schal the wel iqueme,”line1785 Queth the ule, “for, al ende of orde,fol. 168vb Telle ic con word after worde; And if the thinkth that ic misrempe, Thu stond ayeyn and do me crempe.” Mid thisse worde, forth hi ferden,line1790 Al bute here and bute verde, To Portesham ther hi bicome. Ah hw heo spedde of heore dome Ne can ic eu namore telle — Her nys namore of thisse spelle!

Explicit.

fol. 156ra Here begins the debate between the nightingale and the owl.

I was in a valley in summer In a very secluded spot. I heard an owl and a nightingale Conduct a great disputationline5 Argued stiff and stark and strong, At times soft, at times loud, And each puffed against the other And let out all that resentment, And spoke of the other’s habitsline10 In the worst ways they could imagine, And, most of all, about the other’s song They pressed very fierce arguments.

Nightingale The nightingale began to speak From inside a grove of beech trees,line15 Sitting on a lovely bough Thickly adorned with blossoms, In a dense, thick hedge, Mixed with reeds and green sedge. The branch made her all the more happy,line20 So she sang a range of tunes: It seemed as if the melody was A harp’s or pipe’s instead of hers; It seemed as if it emerged from A harp or pipe instead of a throat!

Owl Nearby stood an old stumpline26 Where the owl sang her hours Amid ivy growing all around. It was the owl’s dwelling place.

Nightingale The nightingale saw her,line30 Examined and surveyed her, And felt disdain for that owl, For she’s considered ugly and foul.fol. 156rb “Evildoer,” she said, “fly away! I’m worse off for the sight of you.line35 Indeed, because of your awful face I too often abandon my own song; My heart jumps and my speech fails When you press close to me. I’d much prefer to spit than singline40 Your wretched yowling.”

Owl The owl held off till evening — She mightn’t desist any longer, For her heart was so swollen She could barely breathe —line45 And she finally sputtered a speech: “What do you think now of my song? Do you assume I’m unable to sing Because I’m unable to warble? You always cause me harmline50 And both insult and shame me. If I could just grab you by my foot — Just let it happen that I could! — And if only you were off your branch, You’d sing another tune!”

Nightingale The nightingale answered:line56 “So long as I’m alert in open country And shield myself from exposure, I could care less about your threats; So long as I stay in my hedge,line60 I don’t ever care what you say. I know full well you’re ungentle Toward those unprotected from you, And that you inflict violence and abuse Wherever you can against small birds.fol. 156va That’s why all birdfolk hate you,line66 And why they drive you away, And screech and squawk about you, And tightly throng around you. And also that’s why even the titmouseline70 Is determined to tear you to pieces! You’re hideous to look at, And you’re loathly in many ways: Your body’s short; your neck’s small; Your head’s bigger than the rest of you;line75 Your eyes are coal-black and as big As if they were painted with woad — You stare as if you plan to bite Whatever you can strike with talons! Your beak’s stiff and sharp and curvedline80 Just like a crooked fleshhook — You clack with it incessantly, And that is one of your songs! And you threaten my very flesh — With your claws you’d mash me!line85 A frog’d be more natural for you, As it squats under a millwheel; Snails, mice, and other vermin Are more natural and proper for you. You roost by day and fly by night,line90 Which shows how evil you are. You’re loathsome and unclean — Here I’m referring to your nest And your filthy brood as well: You raise them with dirty habits!line95 You know what they do in there — They soil it right up to the chin! They sit there as if they’re blind. There’s a proverb about that:fol. 156vb ‘Shame on that creatureline100 Who soils its own nest.’ One year a falcon was breeding; She failed to guard her nest carefully. You crept in there one day And laid your filthy egg in it.line105 When the time came for hatching And chicks emerged from their eggs, She brought her chicks food, Watched the nest, saw them eat. She noticed that, to one side,line110 Her nest was soiled at the far edge. The falcon was angry with her chicks, Yelled loud, and sternly chided: ‘Tell me who’s done this! You never used to do this!line115 A filthy habit’s been done to you! Tell me what you know about it!’ Then said one, and said another: ‘Truly, it was our own brother — The one there with the big head —line120 It’s a pity no one’s cut it off! Throw him out immediately So that his neck will break!’ The falcon believed her chicks And took that ugly chick by the middle,line125 And threw it off that leafy branch, And magpies and crows tore it apart. There’s a fable told about this, Though not a full-length story: ‘So will it go for the villainline130 Who comes from a rotten family And mixes with worthy men. He always shows where he came from —fol. 157ra That he emerged from a rotten egg — Even if he might lie in a worthy nest.line135 Even if an apple might roll from the tree Where it grew up amid others, In spite of being quite far from it, It displays where it came from.’”